


A mother knows

by mordredllewelynjones



Series: Gotham Network Event Fics [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Murder, Mother-Son Relationship, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 06:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19941847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordredllewelynjones/pseuds/mordredllewelynjones
Summary: A little trip inside the heart and mind of the future King of Gotham's mother.For the Gotham Network's July event: Favourite supporting/minor character.No sex or rude stuff in this story.





	A mother knows

"I denounced her father to secret police."

  
If was not the first time she had tried to tell him, not the first time she had tried to hint that she knew there was more to her son's life than he had admitted, but it was the first time she had ever been this obvious. Until now she had simply complained about his absence and blamed it on something which she knew could not be true in the hopes that it would coax him into telling the truth. Oswald had resisted these attempts; however, or had possibly been blind to their existence. So now Gertrud had decided to take a less subtle approach.

  
She had assumed that such a comment would elicit a marked response in her son. A certain degree of disbelief and words declaring as much at the very least, possibly even questions and demands to know more. As the conversation continued though it became clear that she was destined to be disappointed. It wasn't that Oswald had failed to comprehend what she had told him of her past. In fact, if the way his eyes sparkled with delighted realisation was anything to go by, her tale had given him a much needed idea. Despite her frustration at the situation Gertrud couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at that. He was such a smart boy.

  
Perhaps he simply didn't want to know, she often considered. Didn't want to face up to the fact that his mother wasn't as naïve to the ways of the world as he hoped. Gertrud knew that Oswald had and would continue to go to great lengths to protect her. Maybe he just didn't want all his hard work to have been for nothing.

  
Still, no matter how hard Oswald tried he couldn't erase the fact that Gertrud Kapelput had spent much of her life as a single mother living one of the roughest parts of Gotham city. As much as she'd prefer to live a life of peaceful tranquillity that was not the hand she had been dealt. She had seen many things over the years, few of them pleasant or respectable. Protection rackets and corrupted cops, often intertwined, ruled the streets of neighbourhoods such as this and Gertrud had been unable to avoid such difficulties entirely. Even when one disregarded all that she had encountered in Gotham she had still seen much of the worst humanity could offer. Corruption and tyranny were a staple of any place where humans were in existence.

  
So yes, she knew about the dark in this world. Had been touched by it and had contributed to it. And although her contribution was undoubtedly miniscule by Gotham standards she still needed her so to know this, to understand, because until he did he would never believe what it was that she was really trying to tell him.

  
That she loved him. Regardless of whatever atrocities he had witnessed, whatever crimes he had committed. It saddened her heart that he had found himself on such a path, of course. It made her feel as though she had failed in her duty as a mother but that didn't make her any less proud of him. It didn't mean that she loved him any less. Oswald needed to know that but how could he accept such a thing when he couldn't even face up to the truths of his life? Of his mother's? The simple answer was that he couldn't which is why Gertrud was so desperate for an opportunity in which to get everything out in the open.

  
Not that she was always honest with herself about what sort of life her son lead. Sometimes the truth hurt too much and she happily embraced the fiction which Oswald built for her. She allowed him to explain away the cuts and bruises which she cleaned with such devotion, averted her gaze when he lashed out at a club patron who had tried to humiliate her. To think that she was powerless to stop such events, to save her poor boy from this nightmare of an existence, was sometimes too much to bare.

  
Other times it was not a conscious choice. Gertrud was not as young as she had once been, after all, and the years had taken their toll. Sometimes her mind simply forgot what was true and what wasn't, reality slipping in and out of focus as if she was looking at it through the lens of a broken telescope. Some memories remained crystal clear whilst others were blurry and distorted. Others simply ceased to be. At times like this the lies Oswald spun to keep her safe seemed perfectly plausible. All nightclub owners must get beaten up by their rivals from time to time. The world of business really was cruel.

  
It was in this state which Don Maroni found Gertrud Kapelput when he visited the club.

  
One minute Gertrud was sitting alone at a table, under the watchful eye of Oswald's delightful friend Butch, sipping a drink as she waited for her son to finish some business so that he could come and join her. The next she was being sweet talked by a large man with a smooth tongue and wide smile. Everything about him screamed danger, that he was a serpent who could not be trusted, but Gertrud didn't seem to notice.

  
By the time a horrified Butch had returned with Oswald in tow it was too late. What Oswald had dreaded had already happened. Someone had gotten close to his mother when she was most vulnerable and now they were going to break her heart.

  
Her son's appearance at the table and his reluctance to join them did make Gertrud start to second guess her opinion of her drinking companion. Oswald looked so scared although he tried desperately not to show it. But Salvatore Maroni seemed so friendly. Surely he wasn't the sort to cause trouble?

  
The nature of the frightful world she lived in made itself impossible to ignore a moment later when Maroni grabbed her by the arm, so tightly that it hurt, and began to interrogate her. Gertrud wept openly as she was forced to listen to all the horrible accusations he made about her precious boy. That he was a psychopathic murder. No, she didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to believe that this awful man was right but deep down she knew he was.

  
Oswald pulled her out of Don Maroni's grip and held her close, comforting her as best as he could whilst shouting threats to the man who had dared upset his mother then fled with such apparent satisfaction at his actions. Yet although the embrace of her son should have consoled her all Gertrud could focus on was Oswald's voice. So angry and filled with blood lust. Dangerous as the weapon he clearly so longed to wield, desperate to torment the man responsible for causing so much upset. Gertrud trembled in her son's arms as she listened to that voice as her heart ached with unspeakable sadness. This was not what she had ever wanted for her child.

  
Oswald had insisted that they went straight home, closing the club early rather than risk sending his mother home accompanied by the likes of Butch or Gabe who were both capable but they were no substitute for family. In his mother's fragile state that was what she needed most right now. With its flower patterned furnishings and lace doilies the flat which the Kapelput's shared seemed a world away from all the violence and deceit of Gotham city which, Oswald felt, was just as it should be. His mother needed a place where she could feel safe.

  
As they sat alone together on the sofa Gertrud couldn't contain her feelings any longer. The encounter with Don Maroni had brought the full extent of her son's situation flooding back to her and now she only wanted one thing. She wanted honesty between herself and her boy. After hearing the way Oswald had spoken and having met, who she now assumed, was one of the people responsible for the various beatings which the young man was plagued with she couldn’t stand the thought of allowing Oswald to struggle alone through this dangerous life a moment longer. Although it terrified her she needed to be included. She had to make sure that she was there for her son no matter what and that he knew he could trust her with anything. Just as any child should be able to depend upon their mother.

  
“Feeling better?”

Oswald grasped his mother’s hands tenderly, his expression kind. “I made tea” he said with a smile before adding “I’m afraid, well, you had a little too much to drink. Mr Maroni, he has a strange sense of humour…”

  
“Oswald! I am not some bumpkin from the country with hay in my brains!” Gertrud cried, her voice cracking with emotion “I am your mother and I will love you no matter what. But lie to me now and you will break my heart. Oswald, have you done things you should not?”

  
She practically held her breath as she awaited her little boy’s reply.

  
During her speech Oswald had watched her incredulously, his eyes widening with sadness as the realisation that she might know the truth hit him. His voice stammered slightly over the words when, after a brief silence, he finally forced himself to answer her question.

  
“Mother, I’m a nightclub owner. That’s all.”

In that moment Gertrud’s heart truly broke and hers wasn’t the only one. Oswald watched on, devastated, as his mother began to cry. It took everything he had not to reach out to her when she made her excuses and left the room. He wanted more than anything to confess to her if there was a chance it would lessen her sorrow. Her happiness meant more to him than almost anything. The fact of the matter was that it would simply be too dangerous. The less she knew the safer she would be. That was what he told himself anyway. In truth he just couldn’t see how her assurances could be true. How could she love him after everything he had done? But then, given how he had just lied to her, would she still care about him now?

  
Gertrud sat on the edge of her bed, tears trickling down her face as she listened to Oswald’s quiet sobs, the sounds of which floated in through the thin walls. She felt so sorry for him. He must feel ever so alone. If only he would trust her. If only he would let her into his life. What saddened her most was the fact that he clearly doubted the strength of his mother’s love for him which, out of all the things which had happened tonight, was the thing that hurt her most. How had she failed so?

  
Unable to leave her son to suffer alone she rose to her feet with the intention of returning to the living room to comfort him. To scoop him up in her arms and tell him that everything would be alright. She would play the role of the clueless old woman if it would make him happy. Anything to make him feel safe and wanted. Before she could carry out her plan; however, there was a knock at the front door. Sensibly she hung back. A muffled yet clearly heated conversation followed by a heavy thud followed a minute later and she sighed sadly. Whatever that was it couldn’t be good.

  
“Oswald? Who was that?” she called, giving Oswald yet another chance to confide in her.

  
“It’s Mr Yatsko from next door. He needs help taking out some trash.”

  
“You, you...please, you help him then.” Gertrud replied. She waited until her son’s uneven footsteps and the scraping sound of a heavy object being dragged along the floor receded from ear shot before she emerged from her room.

  
The front door was still open, the remnants of a smashed glass vase lay on the floor surrounded by the flowers it had once house. The whole scene was drenched in a large puddle of blood, splashes of which also decorated the walls. Streaks of it decorated the landing floor and made their way down the stairs as the man from which the crimson liquid emptied out of was hauled away.

  
A few more tears fell down Gertrud’s cheeks as she went to fetch a mop and bucket. Even if she couldn’t comfort Oswald in the way she yearned to the least she could do was ensure that any potential evidence was washed away before the neighbours saw. At the end of the day that was all she could do to protect her boy.

**The End.**


End file.
